Page 24 of Brutal King

You’ll be fine. If he wanted to kill you, you’d already be dead. Although, there are things far worse than death.

My eyes fly open and I push onto my feet. Fear clenches its grip on my chest and it’s hard to breathe once more.

Dammit. It appears I’ll just have to operate in this state of constant panic.

With my back still against the door, I reach out to both sides, feeling the wall for a light switch. When I find one and the chandelier overhead turns on, I realize that I’m not in the same room I woke up in.

Shit.

While the other suite had been large and undoubtedly feminine, this room is much smaller and masculine and from the looks of it, has been unoccupied for a while. The walls are a deep blue, the wooden moldings dark. A queen size canopy bed sits in the center, but the mattress is missing. Several other pieces of furniture—a chest of drawers, a wingback chair, and a standing mirror—are all covered with white linens.

I walk to the French doors and step outside. Placing my hands on the stone railing, I lean forward and look to the right, where I spot a balcony with the doors open. That’s the room I was in before.

Dammit.

That’s what he was saying when he called out to me. But there was no way in hell I was going to let him catch up. I wanted distance and a barrier between us.

Bad choices, Sofe. Bad choices.

It’s dark now, and cold, but the fresh air feels good on my face. I remain where I am a bit longer, surveying the black forest that surrounds the house. There’s no path through the trees. No road leading out. It’s just dense as far as the eye can see.

That’s why he needs a helicopter.

As my thoughts continue to swirl, I realize I’m subconsciously tracing carved lines on the balustrade. I look down and narrow my gaze to better discern the words.

Scarlet Was Here.

“Scarlet.” I whisper her name.

Who was she? Was she some poor captive girl imprisoned like me? How long was she here?

Long enough to feel the need to carve her name.

The image of a young girl comes to mind, frail and innocent. Scared. In my mind, she’s standing in this same spot, looking out into the same foreboding forest. Did she give up hope? Is that why she wrote her name?

Maybe she wanted people to know she existed. That she didn’t just fade away into the ether. She wanted someone to remember her.

“I’ll remember you, Scarlet. I promise.” I hope that wherever she is, she knows someone is thinking of her. “And I promise to find a way out too. For the two of us.”

The vow renews something inside me, hope or perhaps just the rebellious part of me that refuses to be willingly caged. I might be victimized, but never a victim.

Smart choices. Make smart choices.

First, I can’t leave right now. I’m so tired and my brain is still lagging from everything I’ve been through to think clearly.Though I hate to admit it, Gideon was right. I’d be an easy target for a wild animal. If the hypothermia doesn’t get me first.

My best bet is to rest, get my bearings. Think.

Obviously, this isn’t the room I was intended to stay in. It’s freezing and there’s nowhere to lay.

I go to the door and crack it open enough to peer out into the wide hallway. There’s nothing, no sound or person.

As quietly as possible, I step out and go left. Two doors down, I spot the one left ajar. My room.

Slipping inside, I once again attempt to be quiet. Unfortunately, the door shuts with an echoing clack.

Ugh. If Gideon was anywhere nearby, he would have heard it. He might come and check to make sure I’m not escaping.

Several minutes go by and he doesn’t appear. I let out a breath and set the lock. Then for good measure, I drag the chair from under a writing desk I just noticed, and push it up against the lever.

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